


Devouring Passion

by AmberBrown



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Vendettas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:28:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29696436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberBrown/pseuds/AmberBrown
Summary: A man with a vendetta uses the Musketeers to get his revenge on Captain Treville.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an expansion on one of my Whumptober stories (on FFN), which features almost unchanged at the start. It is complete barring a final edit for each chapter. I will put the chapters up over the next few days.  
> All four feature and all four get whumped. 
> 
> “Every man has a devouring passion in his heart, as every fruit has its worm.”  
> ― Alexander Dumas – The Count of Monte Cristo

Porthos stumbled. The ground did not rush up to meet him. The fall was slow. At least it felt slow. He knew it was not. But he somehow had time to form several thoughts as he fell. He was already confused and disorientated. He had no idea where he was or how long he had been wandering around.

Alone.

He knew he was in a large wood. Large with no end in sight and with little light, every direction looked the same. He tried to walk in a straight line. Tried to find a water source to follow. But there were no streams and after going off course to circle a few of the larger trees and tangled bushes, he was not sure if he was still going the same way.

Crashing to the leaf-strewn ground only added to his woe.

Porthos pushed himself up to his knees. He hissed in pain and looked at his hands. Grazes and cuts covered his palms. He was reminded of clumsy falls as a child. He thought of his mother gently cleaning his hands.

He could hear the rain falling above him, initially caught by the leafy trees. But all too soon the fat, heavy, drops were hitting him. He looked at the sleeve of his shirt as one drop and then another, and another hit it. The damp spots spread out to meet each other.

For a few moments, he wondered where his doublet was.

Then he shivered. A couple of the raindrops hit the back of his neck. He looked around, spotting a big tree with thick, low, branches. The rain had yet to penetrate the foliage. A dry ring of dusty earth surrounded the trunk. Porthos struggled to his feet and shuffled across. He would have preferred to continue his search for an inhabited area, but the darkness was fast overtaking him.

The rain became heavier but slanted away from his shelter. His head hurt and his palms stung. With no end to his misery in sight, he sat under the broad-leafed tree. Leaning back against the rough bark he tried to piece together how he had ended up in his predicament. 

He had woken under a similar tree. There was no sign of anyone else. He had looked around for some time. He knew his tracking skills were good, but they failed him completely at that moment. He had been stripped of all his belongings. His hat and doublet were missing. He was grateful whoever had taken his belongings had left him his boots.

The walk through the wood, for what had felt like hours, had not helped him. The pounding in his head abated for a while but was gradually returning to its previous pain-filled constant thuds. Those thuds led him to intermittently close his eyes. A reaction that inevitably caused him to stumble and fall.

He cast his mind back to the last thing he could remember before his confused awakening in the woods.

They had been in a tavern, the five of them. It has been Treville’s idea to join them. The Musketeer Captain told them he wanted to get out of Paris and enjoy some fresh air for a few days. There were no particular threats to the Royal family at that moment. 

The mission they were returning from had concluded well. A couple of young nobles had fled together from Spain. The lovers were hoping to find sanctuary in France and be allowed to stay together. The Queen took pity on the pair and wrote to their parents. They replied saying they would allow the marriage provided the two young Spaniards were escorted back to ensure no impropriety took place. The lovers behaved on the return journey and nothing out of the ordinary happened. They were handed over to three members of the Spanish court on the border. The Musketeers with their Captain began their return journey. 

Porthos remembered it was the second - or third - night when they had stopped at the tavern, which had been arranged previously. The place was not busy but friendly. A few of the locals pressed the Musketeers for news of Paris and any brewing conflicts. The Musketeers obliged the locals with what news they could share. Athos had found a couple of locals who were almost as quiet as him to sit with in the tavern. The Captain kept himself busy talking to the local landowner about the political state of the country. Aramis and d'Artagnan were relating tall tales to some of the young men of the town. Porthos and a few of the local farmers had started a card game. It was all pleasant, friendly. 

How had they gone from that to him waking up alone in some woods with no idea how he got there?

He looked at his grazed hands again. He thought of his mother again. He sighed. He should have been contemplating getting to safety not thinking about the distant past. But his mind kept wandering. It would not keep still. 

His head hurt, which implied he had hurt his head. Had he fallen? Had he been hit?

If he had fallen, he supposed he might have walked away from the town they were staying in. A blow to the head might have left him confused and not thinking straight. 

Porthos hoped it was as simple as that. He hoped that there was no darker reason for his solitude in the woods.

He blinked a few times. He knew he was going to fall asleep if he remained slumped under the tree. But at the same time, that prospect seemed welcoming. 

MMMM

He woke with a start as a bird called out in alarm at some unseen foe. Porthos pushed himself up and concentrated on calming his breathing. The shocked awakening left him confused for a few seconds before he remembered what had happened. Or rather did not remember. Porthos felt the back of his head, wincing as he brushed over the bruising there. He looked at his hands, taking in the cuts and grazes from the stumbled falls he had endured the previous night. Although he was not sure if it was the previous night. Porthos had no idea if it was a day or only a few hours he had been lost. His concept of time was gone. 

He looked up at the sky, seeing the weak sun high up. Porthos guessed it was still only a few hours since he had come to be injured late the previous night. He hoped he had only been asleep for a couple of hours. He felt stiff and cold, but he knew he would feel better as soon as he forced himself up to stand and move. 

Porthos knew he could not stumble around in the woods indefinity. It was sensible to keep heading in the same direction. Although he could not be one hundred per cent sure he was heading in the same direction. Every time he had to skirt around a tree, he might have been going off course.

The trees stretched ahead of him. The brief spell of rest had done him good. His headache had subsided a little. But that would not last. Porthos knew the incessant thump in his head would return. He would make use of the current respite, however brief, that turned out to be. 

All thoughts of his wellbeing were pushed aside as he rounded a dense patch of undergrowth. The dry ground around an ancient and large tree was bare, apart from exposed roots. 

Lying on his side, bound, gagged, and blindfolded, lay Aramis. His friend had also been stripped of his doublet.

'Aramis?'

Porthos approached his friend cautiously. He looked around half expecting to find the unknown enemy watching, waiting to pounce. Porthos did not see anyone. 

As he got closer to his friend, Aramis tried to talk through the gag. Porthos lay his hand on Aramis' shoulder for a second.

'I'll take it off. Keep still.'

It took Porthos a few seconds to ease the gag and the blindfold from Aramis' face. The cuts to his hands were hindering his movements. 

Aramis blinked a few times. Porthos could see grazes and bruises on his friend's face. As Aramis got used to the light, he focused on Porthos. 

'You alright?'

Porthos managed a wry smile, 'as well as can be expected,' he answered. 'Bit of an aching head. But nothing I can't handle.'

Aramis nodded before wincing.

'What about you? These ropes are tight.'

As he spoke, he started to pull at the rope around his friend's wrists. Aramis had been tied in such a way that he could not move. The rope ran from his wrists to his ankles and then round one of the exposed tree roots. If Aramis had been left tied up in such a manner for any length of time he would be uncomfortable and in pain.

'Can't feel my arms and my shoulders are painful,' Aramis said with resignation. 'Doubt I can stand at the moment either.'

'And you're cold.'

Aramis was shivering. Porthos had been moving around and only been still when he had passed out, but poor Aramis had been left exposed and unable to do anything about it. He knew what that kind of cold felt like, as though it had seeped into the bones. Porthos knew it would take Aramis a while to stop shivering and even longer to actually feel warm. They had both been lucky to be left under trees that provided good cover from the rain.

The rope eventually slid free. Porthos steadied Aramis to stop him from rolling onto his front. His friend could not coordinate his limbs to support himself. Aramis screwed his eyes shut as the feeling began to return to his arms. Porthos shifted to sit slightly behind Aramis and, after easing him up to sit. He pulled his newly liberated friend back to lean against him. Aramis stared at his hands which lay limply in his lap.

‘Give it a couple of minutes,’ said Porthos, sensing his friend’s frustration at the lack of any movement in his fingers. 

Porthos rubbed Aramis' shoulders to get his friend mobile as soon as possible. They could not stay where they were.

Aramis sighed and nodded. Porthos hoped that the proximity might warm his friend up a little. He looked around; there was no sign of anyone else. The ground around them showed signs of several people having been there. 

‘What happened?’ he asked.

‘I was blindfolded for most of it, so I’ll be guessing a bit,’ replied Aramis.

‘I was unconscious, so you know more than me,’ pointed out Porthos. 

Aramis chuckled before taking a shaky breath as he worked through the pain. Porthos waited patiently. 

MMMM 

Sometime before…

‘And the taller one was bigger than any of us,’ said d’Artagnan to his enraptured audience of young farmhands. 

The young men were listening wide-eyed to the retelling of the skirmish from a few weeks before. Aramis was shaking his head before d’Artagnan related the next part of that particular misadventure. 

‘Before he tries to embarrass me, I will admit to being caught out on that occasion,’ said Aramis with a conciliatory smile. ‘I was grabbed from behind by this big brute. The man was massive. I think he could have taken two of us on at once and won. He chucked me against the wall as if I was nothing. Knocked me senseless for a couple of minutes.’

Paul, the youngest of the farmhands, looked concerned, ‘did your friends have to keep you safe?’

It was d’Artagnan who answered with a laugh, ‘no. The giant just left him lying on the ground and turned his attention to the rest of us… which proved to be their undoing.’

Aramis leaned back in his seat and allowed d’Artagnan to complete the tale. His friend even had the good grace to make Aramis’ part a little more impressive than it was. The farmhands were all suitably impressed. The older lad - Simon - glanced at Treville, who was sitting at a table on the other side of the tavern, holding court with the local landowner and a couple of village elders. Aramis knew the young man was thinking about enlisting. 

‘You’ll need a letter of introduction for the Captain,’ said d’Artagnan, who had spotted the glance as well. ‘Would your Comte put in a good word for you?’

Simon looked back and smiled, ‘I’d hope so,’ he said, ‘I’m his son. He suggested that I spend some time working the land to get an all-round appreciation of what the tenants do.’

‘Won’t you be required to take over as heir?’ asked d’Artagnan.

Simon shook his head, ‘second son,’ he said, pointing at himself. ‘I think my father would like me to take up a military life.’

Aramis nodded his approval, second sons of noble or wealthy families were often the ones that ended up as soldiers. He knew several men within the Musketeers who were in that very position. 

They were interrupted by the stable boy approaching their table tentatively. 

‘Please, messieurs,’ he said. ‘A couple of your horses have become quite worked up. I wondered if you’d come and settle them?’

Aramis nodded, ‘any idea what’s spooked them?’

The boy shook his head and glanced over his shoulder towards the corner of the tavern. Aramis followed his gaze. He could make out a man sitting in the corner of the large room, his face cast in shadow by the fire burning in the hearth. Aramis had noted the man earlier in the evening and knew he had only left his table once for a few minutes. When he had walked from the room he had not looked in their direction. Aramis wondered why the boy had looked at the man.

‘Which horses are worked up?’

‘Yours, monsieur, and his,’ the boy pointed at Porthos who was in the process of winning another round of cards much to the good-natured annoyance of the farmers seated around the table. 

‘We’ll go and check on them.’

The boy nodded, glanced at the man in the corner again, and scurried off. 

‘Do you want me to go?’ asked d’Artagnan.

‘No, those farmers need rescuing from Porthos and his winning ways. You and Simon should talk about life as a soldier.’

Aramis left his friend and the farmhands to their conversation. He collected Porthos, who tipped his hat to the two farmers and gathered his winnings. 

‘Cheating?’ asked Aramis as they stepped outside into the cool air of the evening. 

Porthos shook his head, ‘no, they’re just not very good at cards. I was going to call a stop after that round anyway,’ he said. 

They walked towards the stables. Aramis was surprised not to hear any noises. If the horses had been agitated, they would be moving about and vocalising their agitation. 

‘Something ain’t right,’ said Porthos as he stepped through the open doors of the stable. 

There was no chance for Aramis to react as two men rushed towards Porthos from either side of the stable doors. One had a stout stick which he brought down hard on the back of Porthos’ head. His friend dropped to the hay strewn ground of the stable. 

Aramis wrenched his gun from his belt and shouted to his friends in the tavern. He knew he would not have an issue dealing with the two men but wanted to ensure further help was on the way. What he had not expected was for a third man to barrel into him from the side, tripping him to the ground. With the air knocked out of him, it was several seconds before he could contemplate pushing himself up. The man that had tripped him to the ground took advantage of the few moments he was distracted to grab his arms and twist them up behind his back. More hands were on him. Aramis tried to shout out a second time. The sound was muffled by a rag being pushed into his mouth, and a blindfold being tied around his head. He bucked and twisted, trying to get the men off him but was soon rendered helpless as rough rope was wound around his wrist at the same time as his ankles were being tied together. 

Aramis was left disoriented and unable to prevent being dragged across the ground. He guessed he was being pulled into the stable. He was pushed up against a wooden wall and held still. He was aware of someone getting close to him. 

‘If you make any noise, we will shoot your friend in the stomach. He won’t die straight away. He might even come around and die in agony over the next few hours. I imagine you would not like that. Keep quiet and you may both survive. Do you understand?’

Aramis managed a nod.

‘Good,’ said the man, whose voice Aramis did not recognise. 

The stable went quiet. Aramis could hear the horses moving around a little. They might not have been agitated before but had become wound up by the attack on him and Porthos.

Rapidly moving footsteps approached. 

‘Did you hear what he shouted?’

Aramis could tell the Captain was concerned from the tone of his voice. 

‘No. I just heard him yell,’ replied d’Artagnan. ‘The stable lad said the horses needed settling. Aramis and Porthos came out a few minutes ago.’

‘Then, where are they?’ asked Athos. 

The hand keeping him still pressed down on his shoulder a little. Without his sight, Aramis could not assess the situation. He did not know how imminently Porthos’ life was in danger. He wanted to shout out as best he could, but the threat to Porthos prevented him. Aramis wondered if the men that had attacked him and Porthos were waiting for the others to go or if they were going to be attacked as well. Aramis got his answer when he heard another stranger speak.

‘Drop your weapons or your men will be killed.’

There was a pause. Aramis guessed Treville, Athos, and d’Artagnan were taking in the scene. Perhaps the men had stepped out of the shadows and he and Porthos’ predicament had been revealed to them.

A few muttered curses and a shuffling of feet on the dusty ground were followed by the Captain speaking calmly.

‘D’Artagnan, it’s not worth it.’

Aramis heard someone grunt as if they were pushed into something hard enough to cause pain. 

‘If he tries that again,’ said the man who had ordered the Musketeer’s to drop their weapons, ‘I will kill them.’

As the man spoke, Aramis was pushed onto his front. He felt the barrel of a gun pressed into the back of his neck. He felt a weight on his back as someone leaned into him. The move left Aramis struggling to take a breath. 

‘What will happen to them?’ asked Athos.

Aramis knew Athos would have the outward appearance of indifference but, in reality, would be like a coiled snake ready for action at a moment's notice. 

‘When that one wakes up, he can untie his friend and maybe they can look for you three.’

‘Why are you doing this?’ 

A short silence followed the question from the Captain. Aramis heard a few quiet words being spoken. He could not make out what was said.

‘You don’t need these two,’ said Treville. ‘Let them go.’

The weight was moved from Aramis’ back. Any further conversation was drowned out as he took a few deep breaths and tried to turn onto his side. Once he had calmed his breathing, he tried to listen again but could only make out footsteps walking away. He wondered if he and Porthos had been left alone. But when he was grabbed and pulled up, he knew that was not the case. For a few seconds, Aramis was left disoriented and confused as he was manhandled. The movements stopped when he was dropped, with little care, onto something wooden. Aramis guessed he was on the back of a cart. More movements around him for a few seconds before the cart moved off.

He had no idea where he was being taken. 

He had no idea if Porthos was with him or had been left in the stable.

He had no idea what had become of the Captain, Athos and d’Artagnan.


	2. Chapter 2

‘The journey on the cart was… I don’t know, fifteen or twenty minutes. It might have been longer.’

Aramis shook his head as he tried to remember. Porthos understood his friend's confusion and frustration.

‘I have no idea how long I’ve been out here for,’ Porthos pointed out. ‘We have no point of reference. I woke up in the early hours… walked through the woods for a bit… might have been going in circles… passed out again… then the sun was at its highest. I’m guessing it’s late morning or early afternoon now. The day after we were attacked?’

Aramis managed to lean away from Porthos a little and looked at him. He tried to lift his arm but still did not have much movement.

‘You passed out?’

Porthos chuckled, ‘Aramis, you can’t check me for injuries until you get the feeling back in your hands and you can actually move. There’s no bump and my head ain’t bleeding. I told you, I’ve had worse. I’ll be fine… provided we can stop crashing about in this infernal wood and work out what’s going on.’

Aramis settled again, he looked at his hands and started to curl and uncurl his fingers. Porthos knew how frustrated his friend was at the inability to move normally. 

‘What happened after the cart stopped?’ he asked, hoping to distract Aramis for a few more minutes as he recovered from his hours lying restrained.

‘I heard them talking quietly to one another. I think there were three of them dealing with us. I was dragged off the cart and pulled a few yards before being pinned down again. They threatened to hurt you again if I resisted them…’

Aramis paused for a second and sighed.

‘... I allowed them to untie me, pull my doublet off and then restrain me again. But the second time they tied me they made sure the ropes were tight and firm. There was no chance of me getting them undone without help.’

Porthos looked at Aramis' wrists, taking in the grazes where the rope had rubbed against his skin.

‘I wonder if they planned for me to find you. What if I’d walked in the other direction, or not woken up?’ mused Porthos.

‘I’m glad you woke up. And I’m glad you found me,’ replied Aramis with a wry chuckle. ‘I heard the cart drive off and that was it. I pulled at the ropes for a bit, but it was useless.’

They sat in silence for a few minutes as Aramis gradually got more movement back into his hands and arms. 

‘Help me up?’ Aramis asked.

Porthos got to his knees and steadied his friend before easing him up to stand. Aramis grunted in discomfort a few times as they took a few steps forward. Porthos could tell his friend was struggling to walk but he was upright, and his coordination would improve the more they moved. 

‘We’ll keep going in whatever direction you were heading,’ said Aramis. ‘And I’m sure you weren’t going in circles.’

Porthos huffed out a laugh, ‘felt like it. I’ve not felt that alone for a long time.’

‘Me either,’ agreed Aramis.

Porthos wondered what had been going through his friend's mind as he lay helpless and shivering on the ground. At least he had been able to move and knew he had a chance of getting back to civilization. 

Sure enough, as they progressed through the wood, Aramis needed less help from Porthos. He had started out taking most of Aramis’ weight. After a few hundred yards Aramis was more or less walking unaided. Porthos kept close by in case his friend stumbled. He wondered if Aramis would have to return the favour as his headache started to get worse again. They were both shivering; several hours of exposure was not doing either of them any favours. Porthos hoped they could find some shelter or preferably some help sooner rather than later. 

MMMM

_Meanwhile… ___

__Athos watched d'Artagnan running his hands over the rough bricks around the hinges on the door. The heavy door showed no sign of decay, they would not be able to break it down. A few flakes fell away from the old bricks. D'Artagnan picked at one of the bricks for a few seconds before shaking his head._ _

__He turned to look at Athos and sighed, 'I suppose you are going to tell me any escape attempt is futile.'_ _

__Athos raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, 'it may have been possible. There is no harm in being sure.'_ _

__D'Artagnan sat beside Athos on the cold stone floor and stared at the door. Athos wondered if he was willing the door to open._ _

__'Do you think they’re alright?'_ _

__Athos shrugged, 'we should concentrate on getting out of here first.'_ _

__'I shouldn't have tried to grab one of them. They could have killed Porthos.'_ _

__'Neither of us could see the knife at the time.'_ _

__D'Artagnan shook his head, 'I acted hastily… If the Captain hadn't stopped me…'_ _

__'But he did,' Athos reminded him._ _

__The image of the men threatening Porthos and Aramis, whilst neither man could defend themselves, would haunt Athos for a long time. He suspected Aramis had been warned to stay quiet, and Porthos had been the bargaining tool._ _

__'Do you think the Captain knew them?'_ _

__Athos thought for a moment, 'I did get that impression when the man in charge spoke to him. The Captain reacted to him and none of the others.’_ _

__One of the men who looked of a similar age to the Captain had been directing the others. The assault on them was calculated. Porthos and Aramis were hidden out of sight and only revealed when the Musketeers reached for their weapons. The gun to Aramis’ head and the knife to Porthos’ throat were enough to quell any thoughts of fighting back._ _

__‘We can’t even be sure if Porthos was alive,’ said d’Artagnan._ _

__Athos shook his head, ‘we cannot. We can only assume he is. And that Aramis is still alive as well.’_ _

__‘Do you think they’re still in the stable?’ d’Artagnan shook his head. ‘They’d be found too quickly. Perhaps they’re here as well… Wherever here is.’_ _

__They had been bundled into a covered cart under the threat of many guns and driven for several minutes. Athos had tried to keep track of the turns but was unsure how successful he had been. When the cart had stopped, they were pulled out and forced into a cellar with a wide corridor, before being pushed into the small room where they were now sitting. Treville had been taken elsewhere._ _

__‘Do we try to overpower whoever comes through the door?’ asked d’Artagnan._ _

__Athos wondered if his friend kept asking questions and making comments to fill the silences that kept falling in the room._ _

__‘We will have to decide when they come,’ said Athos. ‘You will know if it is sensible to attack or not. You have the same information I have.’_ _

__D’Artagnan smiled, ‘it’s weird how we can know what each other is going to do. I never noticed it happening, but… after a while of working with you three, I could tell if we should be quiet and wait for you to talk to someone... Or if we should charge in and ask questions later.’_ _

__‘And we never discuss who will take the lead,’ mused Athos. ‘We just know.’_ _

__‘Each man working to their strengths,’ suggested d’Artagnan._ _

__Athos nodded, ‘it has got us out of trouble on more than one occa-’_ _

__He stopped talking mid-sentence when they heard footsteps approaching from outside. Both Musketeers were on their feet in an instant. Athos could tell d’Artagnan had tensed himself up, ready to react to anything._ _

__‘There are more of us than you, my friends. We are armed. You may overpower one or two of us but you will not be able to take us all on. We have been given leave to shoot you both if necessary.’_ _

__Athos glanced at d’Artagnan who nodded. They would heed the advice of their captor and not attack. At least not initially._ _

__Bolts were pulled back on the outside of the door before it was pulled open. The door swung smoothly and noiselessly. A wide corridor was revealed, there was another, open, door opposite. The room beyond was in darkness. The flicker of light in the corridor showed four men. Three had their guns aimed into the room where the two Musketeers stood. The fourth man was holding the door. Athos recognised him as the leader of the group of thugs from when they were taken captive. He was a swarthy man, his grizzled appearance belying years of a life spent under a hot sun._ _

__‘Good lads,’ said the man, Athos could not place his accent, but he did not think the man was French. ‘My master, he didn’t want you to know what was happening. But me. I’m an honourable man. Soldier to soldier, I wanted you to know.’_ _

__The man paused and looked at them both for a few seconds. Athos did not like being the object of the man’s scrutiny. Especially when he did not know what the man was specifically looking for._ _

__‘Your friends… they’re having their turn first. It ain’t pretty,’ the man glanced at the man on his left who smirked._ _

__‘There’s something… entertainin’ about getting a man to scream,’ said the smirking man. ‘Watching ‘is mate desperate for the attention to be turned to them to spare their comrade.’_ _

__The foreign man continued, ‘they lasted well. But they ain’t gonna last much more.’_ _

__‘Where is the Captain?’ asked d’Artagnan._ _

__The leader of the men looked at d’Artagnan for a few seconds and nodded. Athos got the impression he was nodding to himself and not to anyone else. The man had decided something._ _

__‘Basso,’ said the man to the smirker, ‘clean up the room. They’ll be having their turn soon. We don’t want to put them off.’_ _

__Basso nodded, he stepped out of sight, passing his gun to another man who replaced him at the leader's side._ _

__‘Lando,’ said the new man, ‘the others… What do we do with them? One of them is nearly dead, the other isn’t far off either.’_ _

__Lando smiled cruelly, ‘if you are sure they ain’t gonna crawl away, dump them in the pit. We’ll wait until the others are done before we burn them…’_ _

__Lando looked at Athos and d’Artagnan._ _

__‘Although,’ he said, ‘these two may survive. You never know.’_ _

__Lando winked at them as he pushed the door closed with a thud. The bolts were shot across. Athos listened at the door. He could hear a quiet muffled conversation before several people walked away._ _

__He looked at d’Artagnan who looked pale._ _

__‘I know,’ said Athos. ‘It does not sound good. I am sure, now, this has something to do with the Captain. I do not believe this is a random attack on us. We have not been attacked simply for being soldiers.’_ _

__‘Were they from Savoy?’ asked d’Artagnan._ _

__‘Possibly, I could not place the accents but the names they used were from that region. It is all very odd.’_ _

__‘Do you think they were telling the truth about Aramis and Porthos?’_ _

__Athos shook his head, ‘we cannot know. They may have been trying to wind us up… I hope that was their intent…’_ _

__The two men looked at each other for a few seconds. Contemplating the deaths of two of their friends was unpleasant. And having no clue as to the fate of their Captain only added to the worry._ _

__D’Artagnan reiterated Athos’ words from earlier, ‘we should concentrate on getting out of here first. Then we can deal with… whatever has happened to the others. We can’t do anything whilst we are stuck in here.’_ _

__Athos nodded before looking around the room. He had, in the same manner, that d’Artagnan had already searched the room for a means of escape. The narrow window near the ceiling would be too small for either of them to escape from, but it might have given them a way to communicate with someone outside._ _

__D’Artagnan guessed what he was thinking and moved to stand under the window. He braced himself against the wall and cupped his hands to help Athos to gain some height. Athos steadied himself against the wall, he knew he would have to be quick, d'Artagnan would not be able to take his weight for long. He pushed at the window, which was made of thick glass. He could not see through the glass. All he could make out was that it was daytime. They had been captured late the previous evening. He guessed it was well into the morning of the next day._ _

__He pushed himself away from the useless window and stepped back to the floor. Athos shook his head._ _

__‘The glass is thick and well set in the wall. We will not be able to move it or break it.’_ _

__D’Artagnan sighed and looked back at the door, ‘the only way out is through that collection of miscreants. Do you think… what was his name… Lando was telling the truth about being a soldier. That any of them were soldiers?’_ _

__‘Possibly,’ said Athos. ‘If they are being paid by whoever is behind this, they will probably be prepared to cause harm. They had no issue with hurting Porthos and Aramis.’_ _

__They lapsed into silence again. Athos returned to his spot on the floor, opposite the door. He tried to think of ways to escape, but nothing worked. They knew nothing about what was going on. They had no idea where the Captain was, and they did not know if Aramis and Porthos were even alive._ _

__The situation was not ideal._ _

__MMMM_ _

__The waiting for something, anything, to happen was what d’Artagnan hated the most. Athos was quiet and still beside him. His friend, ever alert, had a calmness about him that d’Artagnan wished he could emulate._ _

__But he could not._ _

__He was fidgeting. He had checked the hinges on the door again. He had looked at the window again. He had sighed a few times._ _

__Then Athos had glared at him and he had gone back to sitting on the floor next to his friend._ _

__The words of their captor still rang in his ears. The implication was that Aramis and Porthos were dead or dying. That they had been tortured whilst he and Athos languished in the cell. Were their captors trying to get them on edge by making things up? Were they trying to get the pair of them worried about what was going to happen to them? And the lack of news of Treville, the way Lando had ignored his question, was odd._ _

__D’Artagnan shook his head. He tried to push all the whirling thoughts from his mind and concentrate on how they were going to free themselves. They could not help the others whilst they were incarcerated. But they could not escape._ _

__There was no escape._ _

__‘Clear your mind, d’Artagnan,’ said Athos._ _

__His friend had not looked at him for several minutes but appeared to know exactly what was going through his thoughts._ _

__‘They will have done what they set out to do if you continue to allow your thoughts to spiral out of control. Concentrate on the present.’_ _

__‘Sorry,’ said d’Artagnan as he took a deep breath to try to settle himself._ _

__Noises outside focused him. Something was about to happen. D’Artagnan did not have any more time to dwell on what was happening. He hoped he was about to get a chance to escape and find out for certain what was happening._ _

__The door was pushed open._ _

__Lando and a couple of his men stepped into the room. Behind them were three more men, each wielding a gun. D’Artagnan and Athos scrambled up to stand. One of the men stepped towards Athos, his gun aimed at his chest. Lando and the other man moved towards d’Artagnan._ _

__They grabbed him. D’Artagnan tried to pull away from them but stopped when Lando grabbed his head and turned it, forcing him to look at Athos. Athos was looking back at him. His head had been pushed to the side by the barrel of the gun the third man was holding. D’Artagnan stopped struggling and allowed the men to manipulate him. He was forced to walk from the cell out into the wide corridor._ _

__‘Where are you taking him?’ asked Athos from behind him._ _

__‘For his first turn,’ replied Lando, as if Athos should have already known what was happening._ _

__D’Artagnan remained tense but did not resist the men. He looked around, searching for any way to escape. He looked at each of the men with Lando. All were alert none left themselves open to attack._ _

__The door to their cell was closed behind him, locking Athos away again. D’Artagnan was left on his own with their captors. He was guided along the corridor to another open door. The room was large with dark, unlit corners._ _

__D’Artagnan was pushed towards the centre of the room. He saw a set of manacles dangling from the ceiling. He was stopped under the manacles. More of the men surrounded him. He tried to pull away from the men but there were too many of them. They pulled at his doublet, undoing the buttons and yanking it down his arms. Once he had been relieved of his jacket, two men grabbed his wrists, forcing his arms up. The manacles were closed and locked around his wrists leaving him unable to lower his arms. The men stepped away from him. D’Artagnan pulled at the manacles for a few seconds before looking around at the men._ _

__‘You know the drill,’ said Lando, who was standing a few yards away, his face half-hidden by shadow. ‘One at a time. Make it count. We want him hurting but not injured. He needs to be able to take several rounds.’_ _

__D’Artagnan could not settle his breathing. He was helpless. He watched one of the men step forward. The man had wrapped a cloth around his fingers and formed a fist with his hand. He grinned at d’Artagnan as he approached him. D’Artagnan knew the man was going to hit him; he tensed his body, ready for the strike. But it still hurt. He moved away as far as the chain above him would allow. A second punch followed; both strikes were to the lower part of his chest. The man chuckled and stepped back, unwrapping his fingers as he went. D’Artagnan watched him hand the strip of cloth to another man._ _

__He did not have time to prepare for the second assault. A man walked up to him silently from behind. He was punched twice in the back. D’Artagnan could not help crying out in shock and pain. His reaction caused a few of the men to laugh. He tried to twist around to see the man that had hit him in the back, but all he saw was the assailant stepping back into the shadows._ _

__Another man, Basso, stepped forward. He did not punch d’Artagnan. He grabbed his shoulders and stepped close to him. D’Artagnan could not pull away far enough to escape the head but. The knock left him reeling, his knees buckled. He dangled from the manacles for a few seconds before he managed to get his feet under him again. He blinked a few times. He knew he was bleeding from the nose after the strike to his face._ _

__But there was no time to think about the attack. Another man was walking up to him, a rag-wrapped fist already raised, hitting him in the side and then lower on his hip. The punches were hard and carefully placed. The men meant to leave him compromised and struggling._ _

__Another man stepped forward and kicked him in the side of the knee. The kick left him unable to support any weight on his right leg for a few seconds. D’Artagnan managed to steady himself before the next man stepped forward and punched him in the face causing his head to snap back._ _

__Lando moved forward to stand in front of d’Artagnan. The leader smiled cruelly, he reached up and grabbed d’Artagnan’s chin, turning his face from side to side. Lando nodded with apparent satisfaction before looking at someone behind d’Artagnan. Some silent communication went on, which culminated in Lando nodding and turning to Basso and the man that had kicked him._ _

__‘Take him back. You two,’ he pointed at two of the men behind d’Artagnan, ‘back them up. The other one shouldn’t cause you any problems, but they are Musketeers so we cannot take chances.’_ _

__D’Artagnan tried to pull away when he was grabbed from behind. Strong arms encircled him as Lando undid the manacles. When his arms were free, he nearly crashed to the ground. He realised why he had been grabbed. They knew he would not be able to support himself. He tried to stand on his own but had to rely on the help of the big man holding him up. Basso grabbed his arm, and, between them, the two men dragged him from the large shadowy room._ _

__He could not get his legs to work, his knee hurt, and his hip was already stiff from the punch he had suffered. Without being fully aware of what was going on d’Artagnan found himself being pushed unceremoniously back into the cell he had been sharing with Athos. Athos grabbed him and stopped him from crashing to the ground. He was aware of the door being shut behind him._ _

__‘Couldn’t get… away,’ he managed to say._ _

__‘I gathered that,’ said Athos as he pushed him to lie on his back and began to search him for injuries._ _

__‘Punched and kicked,’ d’Artagnan said. ‘Nothing I won’t recover from.’_ _

__‘But you are compromised enough to make any further escape attempts difficult,’ said Athos with a smile._ _

__‘Sorry.’_ _

__‘I do not think you should blame yourself, d’Artagnan,’ said Athos. ‘Neither of us could have stopped this.’_ _

__Athos eased him up to sit and helped him to move to the wall. He rubbed at his hip for a few seconds and stared at his knee._ _

__‘There was no sign of the Captain,’ he said. ‘No sign of Aramis or Porthos either.’_ _

__‘Did they ask you anything?’_ _

__‘It wasn’t an interrogation. All they did was beat me.’_ _

__Once Athos was satisfied, he was not going to keel over he settled next to him, their shoulders touching._ _

__‘There is more to this than we know,’ said Athos._ _

__D’Artagnan was inclined to agree._ _


	3. Chapter 3

_The previous day... ___

__The Musketeer Captain enjoyed listening to the local landowner talking about things that actually mattered. He was explaining the innovative irrigation system one of his tenant farmers had started to use. The landowner, Baron Granger, was a minor noble and, unusually, had no delusions of grandeur. He explained to Treville how he insisted all his sons took a turn to work the land for a couple of seasons. His daughter had learned many basic skills from the local women. And he often patrolled the land looking for poachers with his gamekeeper._ _

__The tavern was not busy but still felt welcoming. He was glad of the break from the horse and a chance for his men to relax. He was pleased they had arranged to stay in the village on their return from the border._ _

__It had not taken them long to spread out around the tavern. Athos, who had not been given a chance to brood for a few days was catching up in a corner. A couple of the locals had asked to join him. The three men spoke briefly before sinking into a comfortable silence as they stared at their drinks. Porthos was beating a couple of the farmers at cards. Treville wondered if his Musketeer was cheating, he hoped he was not. And Aramis and d’Artagnan were sitting with some of the farmhands, one of whom was the landowner's son. The group were the loudest in the tavern. Treville caught the odd few words and knew that Aramis was telling tall tales to entertain the men. D’Artagnan was also known to embellish the truth on occasion. He hoped the pair would not make soldiering sound too romantic; it was obvious Granger’s son wanted to enlist._ _

__A couple of other people were dotted about the tavern. An old man and his dog were sitting closest to the fire. The tavern keeper's daughter, who was busy serving food, was throwing the dog scraps when she walked past. The old man was gazing into the fire oblivious to his surroundings. And hidden away in a corner was a man on his own. The man had wandered out of the tavern for a few minutes but soon returned to his place hidden in the shadows. Treville wondered if the man was a traveller, passing through and did not want to engage the locals in conversation. Was he only using the tavern as a place to lay his head before carrying on?_ _

__The stable boy, a small lad from one of the poorer farms, Granger had told him, walked up to Aramis. The boy seemed hesitant; he was glancing about. Treville knew that some people found soldiers to be intimidating and his men would tower over the small boy. The boy spoke to Aramis and pointed at Porthos. Aramis nodded and after a few words with d’Artagnan walked across to Porthos. The pair left the tavern together and turned towards the stables. The stable boy trotted off to the kitchen, but not before he looked at the corner of the room where the traveller was sitting._ _

__A few seconds later d’Artagnan sat up and looked towards the door. He glanced back at the young men he had been talking to. They all shook their heads. After looking at the door again, d’Artagnan got to his feet and crossed the room to Athos. Treville was instantly on his guard. D’Artagnan would not disturb Athos when he wanted to be alone lightly. The pair were soon walking towards him._ _

__‘Sorry, Captain,’ said d’Artagnan, with a nod towards the other men around the table. ‘I heard Aramis shout out. He and Porthos went to the stables. The lad said something about the horses being agitated.’_ _

__Treville nodded, ‘excuse me, gentlemen,’ he said. ‘It is probably nothing, but we are occasionally the target of people who think they are above the law. We will ensure the horses are unharmed and return.’_ _

__‘Of course,’ said Granger, ‘let us know if you need anything.’_ _

__The three Musketeers left the tavern and walked towards the stable block, a sturdy barn a few yards from the main building._ _

__‘Did you hear what he shouted?’ asked Treville as they approached the open double doors of the barn._ _

__The horses were quiet. The whole area was quiet. Oddly so. Treville looked around for his men. No one was around._ _

__‘No. I just heard him yell,’ replied d’Artagnan. ‘The stable lad said the horses needed settling. Aramis and Porthos came out a few minutes ago.’_ _

__‘Then, where are they?’ asked Athos._ _

__They stepped closer towards the doorway. Treville saw that both Athos and d’Artagnan had their hands on their weapons. He was fully alert as well. Something felt wrong. He had been a soldier long enough to know when something was wrong._ _

__Two men stepped out of the shadows of the barn; they were both aiming guns in their direction. As one, the three Musketeers pulled their guns. The brief standoff ended when a third and fourth man stepped into the light. One of the men pulled the cover off a lamp illuminating the stable enough to see the missing Musketeers._ _

__Porthos was lying, apparently unconscious, on the hay covered ground. Aramis had been pushed into a corner, he was bound, gagged and blindfolded. He was being kept where he was by a big man who had a meaty hand on Aramis’ shoulder._ _

__‘Drop your weapons or your men will be killed.’_ _

__The man with the covered lamp indicated their guns with his own. Treville could not place the man’s accent. He thought it might have been from somewhere near the border with Savoy or Milan._ _

__D’Artagnan made a quick move towards the nearest man. He tried to grab the man’s gun. A brief scuffle between the two men ensued. Treville could tell d’Artagnan had the upper hand until he noticed the man kneeling by the prone form of Porthos. The man had a knife to Porthos’ throat._ _

__‘D’Artagnan, it’s not worth it,’ the Captain used his authoritative tone._ _

__D’Artagnan stopped what he was doing and looked in the direction Treville pointed. His eyes went wide when he saw the threat to his friend. The gunman pushed d’Artagnan away. The Musketeer knocked into the door frame with a grunt before straightening up._ _

__‘If he tries that again,’ said the man with the accent, ‘I will kill them.’_ _

__He pointed at Porthos and Aramis. The big man holding Aramis pushed him onto his front and leaned heavily on his back. The move would have made it difficult for Aramis to breath._ _

__‘What will happen to them?’ asked Athos._ _

__‘When that one wakes up, he can untie his friend and maybe they can look for you three,’ said the man with the lamp._ _

__‘Why are you doing this?’ asked Treville._ _

__The man looked at Treville as he spoke, then nodded behind the Musketeers. Treville turned around._ _

__‘He is paid well to do what I want,’ said another man._ _

__Treville realised it was the man who had been skulking in the corner of the tavern. Treville scowled. The man chuckled as he realised Treville did not know who he was._ _

__‘I will fill you in,’ he said. ‘But later.’_ _

__Whoever the man was it was clear he was only interested in him and not his Musketeers. Treville decided he had to at least try to gain their liberty._ _

__‘You don’t need these two,’ said Treville, pointing to Athos and d’Artagnan. ‘Let them go.’_ _

__‘No,’ said the new man. ‘They will be needed.’_ _

__Treville tried to work out where he might know the man from. He was the same age as him and of a similar build. He was plainly dressed but Treville thought he might have been from noble stock. He had a pale complexion and a sickly look about him. Treville wondered if he had been indoors for a long time. He did not have the look of a man who worked the land or spent any time under the sun._ _

__Two of the men approached Athos and d’Artagnan who allowed themselves to be disarmed. Treville was relieved of his weapons by the man with the lamp. He had placed the lamp on the ground casting an ethereal light around the stable. Treville could see Porthos’ face, he was still. For a few moments, Treville wondered if Porthos was dead. He did not have time to look to see what state Aramis was in before he was pushed back a few paces._ _

__D’Artagnan and Athos were being restrained by the men, rough ropes were tied around their wrists. The three of them were pushed up to sit in a covered cart. Two men climbed up with them, each with a gun that was pressed into the stomachs of the two bound Musketeers. Treville knew none of them could risk fighting the men that had them. As the covers were tied in place at the back of the cart Treville caught a glimpse of Aramis being pulled to his feet and forced towards a second cart. Porthos was dragged across by a couple of men._ _

__It was the last Treville saw of his other Musketeers, he wondered what their fate would be._ _

__MMMM_ _

__Athos and d’Artagnan were taken further along the corridor and pushed into a cell. Athos looked back at him before he disappeared. Treville was pleased his men were not followed into the cell by any of their captors. If they were alone, they were not being harmed and could concentrate on trying to escape or fight back._ _

__Treville looked at the pale man that had planned their capture. The man nodded towards another room off the wide corridor. The leader of the thugs pushed him into the room which was lit by many candles. The room was large. A few sconces were lit by a couple of the men casting more light about the stone room. Treville could see various chains attached to one wall with manacles dangling from them. Another set of manacles hung from chains in the centre of the room._ _

__‘You don’t remember me, do you?’ asked the pale man._ _

__Treville shook his head. He saw no point in trying to bargain with the man when he had no idea who he was._ _

__‘Cast your mind back fifteen years. You were a newly commissioned lieutenant and, I suspect, keen to prove your worth to your superiors.’_ _

__Treville could not hide his scepticism, he still did not know who the man was that had taken an interest in him. The man chuckled and shook his head._ _

__‘I must have been an insignificant arrest,’ he said. ‘Perhaps I was one of many and you spared no thought for what you had done.’_ _

__‘I do not know you,’ said Treville._ _

__‘But you do. Let me jog your memory. The King or a senior minister sent your garrison to arrest several Huguenots in the south of the country. You did as you were told. You did not question if what you were doing was correct. You arrived at my door. You arrested me and killed my family.’_ _

__Treville shook his head, ‘I do not know you,’ he repeated. ‘I would remember such an atrocity. And I can assure you I would not be responsible for killing innocent people.’_ _

__‘Your commanding officer ordered it,’ said the man, raising his voice a little. ‘You and your men were responsible for the murder of my wife and son and the child growing in her womb. You killed them. The blades may have been wielded by your men, but you were responsible.’_ _

__‘Was I even there?’ asked Treville._ _

__The man did not answer. Treville knew then that he was not. He had been ordered to do many things he disagreed with over the years. He knew he would have remembered killing an innocent young family. Regardless of his own religious beliefs, he knew he would not have been capable of murdering a child. But the garrison he had been stationed with at the time was large. He was not the only lieutenant; he knew others did not share his ideals. Could this angry man have mistaken him for one of the other officers? Or had he found out that he had been in the garrison at the right time and wanted revenge regardless of his involvement?_ _

__‘My name is Paul Jurieu,’ said the pale man._ _

__Treville shook his head, ‘I do not know you, monsieur. I may have been with the garrison at the time of your arrest, but I was not involved.’_ _

__Jurieu took a few steps forward. He stopped in front of Treville, he was a little shorter and had to look up at him. Treville could see fire in the man’s eyes._ _

__‘I watched as my family was murdered and my home burned. Then I was thrown into a stinking cell for nothing more than my beliefs. I was released a few months ago. I don’t know why. But I was left with little. A good friend had kept some of my valuables. I sold them, and with the money, I employed this band of misfits who are loyal to me and will do as I ask.’_ _

__‘And what is it that you ask of them?’_ _

__‘I want to see you suffer,’ said Jurieu. ‘I want you to know loss. I want you to watch as your family is ripped asunder. I know you do not have a woman. But you have men. Men that are loyal to you. Men that you probably see as your sons. I’ve done my research. I know that the men you are with are the ones you are closest to…’_ _

__‘They have not done anything to you. I have not done anything to you.’_ _

__‘You. Murdered. My. Family.’_ _

__Treville knew there was no chance of his reasoning with the man. His need for revenge was all-consuming. Treville may not have been the guilty party, but he was the one Jurieu had in his sights._ _

__Jurieu smiled. Treville guessed the man thought he had accepted his guilt. That he had accepted that he was responsible for the awful events the man had been through._ _

__‘Do you want to know what I did with your other men?’_ _

__Treville did not respond. He did want to know, but he would not give Jurieu the satisfaction of asking._ _

__‘I have had them dumped in the woods a couple of miles away. Not far. But far enough. I believe there are wolves in the area. Just imagine them sniffing around your men. The unconscious one probably wouldn’t notice. But the other one would. He’s awake but helpless. He can’t escape. He will feel the wolves sniffing at him, searching for the best place to sink their teeth. We took their doublets from them; it won’t take much for a wolf to rip a shirt. Can you imagine his screams as they rip into him and tear him apart?’_ _

__Treville tried very hard not to imagine the fate that might await Aramis and Porthos. Even if the local fauna did not get to them, they had been left vulnerable on a cold night. It had started to rain as they arrived at the house and were forced down into the cellar. The woods around them were extensive. Treville knew the chances of finding his missing men were slim, even if he could get himself out of his immediate predicament._ _

__Jurieu was watching him with a smug smile. He chuckled to himself before turning to Lando who was waiting a few yards away._ _

__‘You know what to do,’ he said._ _

__Lando nodded to the two men nearest to Treville. They grabbed him and marched him towards the door. He was forced along the corridor towards the cell that Athos and d’Artagnan had been put in. But he was not going to be joining his men. He was guided into the darkness of the room opposite. Jurieu entered the room behind him._ _

__‘My man, Lando,’ said Jurieu, ‘he is about to have a conversation with your men there. You are going to remain silent. If you speak, they will be killed in a drawn-out, excruciatingly painful manner. Do you understand?’_ _

__Treville nodded. The men on either side of him had a tight hold. He knew he could not escape them. Even if he did get free of their grasp more men were filling the corridor. Treville knew he would not get far._ _

__The men arranged themselves around the door. Lando glanced around to ensure the men were ready before he called out to the imprisoned Musketeers._ _

__‘There are more of us than you, my friends. We are armed. You may overpower one or two of us but you will not be able to take us all on. We have been given leave to shoot you both if necessary.’_ _

__Lando pulled the door open. Treville realised he had been left in darkness so that Athos and d’Artagnan would not be able to see him. He could see them, lit by the candles and torches. They were both unharmed._ _

__‘Good lads,’ said Lando. ‘My master, he didn’t want you to know what was happening. But for me. I’m an honourable man. Soldier to soldier, I wanted you to know. Your friends… they’re having their turn first. It ain’t pretty,’ the man glanced at the man on his left who smirked._ _

__‘There’s something… entertainin’ about getting a man to scream,’ said another of the men. ‘Watching ‘is mate desperate for the attention to be turned to them to spare their comrade.’_ _

__Lando added, ‘they lasted well. But they ain’t gonna last much more.’_ _

__Treville shook his head as he listened. Jurieu had set up the conversation, he had briefed his men so that they knew what to say. He wanted Athos and d’Artagnan to believe that Aramis and Porthos were being tortured and killed. He wanted the captured men to be distracted, wondering if they could rescue their friends._ _

__‘Where is the Captain?’ asked d’Artagnan._ _

__Lando did not respond to the question._ _

__‘Basso,’ he said instead, ‘clean up the room. They’ll be having their turn soon. We don’t want to put them off.’_ _

__Basso stepped away, only going a few paces along the corridor out of sight of Athos and d’Artagnan._ _

__‘Lando,’ said another man, ‘the others… What do we do with them? One of them is nearly dead, the other isn’t far off either.’_ _

__Treville wanted to tell Athos and d’Artagnan they were being fed lies. Aramis and Porthos were likely in danger, but, as far as Treville was aware, they were somewhere in the woods having to fend for themselves._ _

__Lando said, ‘if you are sure they ain’t gonna crawl away, dump them in the pit. We’ll wait until the others are done before we burn them…’_ _

__Lando looked at Athos and d’Artagnan._ _

__‘Although,’ he said, ‘these two may survive. You never know.’_ _

__The swarthy man pushed the door closed and turned to look into the room where his master and their other captive were observing._ _

__Jurieu stepped into the light, ‘well done,’ he said. ‘All of you. Well done.’_ _

__The other men acknowledged the praise._ _

__Treville allowed the men holding him to force him back along the corridor and into the large room._ _

__‘You’ve had your fun with them,’ said Treville. ‘Let them go. I’m the one who hurt you.’_ _

__He had decided there was no point in continuing to protest his innocence. If he could get Jurieu more interested in him than his men, it might save them further harm. But the wronged man was having none of it._ _

__Jurieu nodded to the two men holding Treville; they pushed him to the corner of the room. His wrists were pushed into manacles that were set into the wall. He could not move his arms. His ankles were forced back into similar metal restraints. The position was uncomfortable. He had been left unable to move, but that did not stop him from trying. He pulled at the manacles, feeling their sharp edges biting into the skin on his wrists. He was too late to react to the men gagging him. The rag was pushed into his mouth and secured firmly._ _

__Jurieu walked up to him. He paused and reached up to the nearest lit torch; he pulled it from its sconce._ _

__‘If you make a sound, your man will be killed. I am not like you. I do not intend to kill your men. But I will see them suffer… so that you can suffer as you watch in silence. Remember, there are two of your men here. I have plenty to work with.’_ _

__The pale man walked away, taking the torch with him. One of the men remained, a gun pushed into his side. He was left in darkness. Jurieu settled in another corner, half-hidden by shadows. Treville wondered if he was sensitive to the light after his years imprisoned._ _

__The other men arranged themselves around the walls, some in the light, some in the darkness. They were all looking towards the manacles that were dangling from the centre of the room._ _

__MMMM_ _


	4. Chapter 4

Treville watched movement at the door as d’Artagnan was brought into the large room. He knew his Musketeer would not be able to see him restrained in the corner of the room. Although even if d’Artagnan could see him, Treville doubted he would be able to pay him much attention. 

Several of the men surrounded d’Artagnan. Treville could not see exactly what was going on, but when they stepped back the young man had been stripped of his doublet and had his wrists pushed into the dangling manacles. He was left in the centre of the room, breathing fast, looking around him. Treville could see the fear in d’Artagnan’s eyes. He was trying to hide it but failing. Treville was not surprised. Treville knew if he had been restrained in such a manner and left in the centre of a room full of brutish men he would be scared as well. 

Lando stepped into the light and turned on the spot taking in all the men in the room to ensure they were paying attention to him. He looked at d’Artagnan as he gave his instructions.

‘You know the drill. One at a time. Make it count. We want him hurting but not injured. He needs to be able to take several rounds.’

Treville could do nothing as five of the men around the room took a turn to assault his Musketeer. D’Artagnan tried not to cry out but failed. The punches and kicks were well placed to cause him maximum pain but not to lead to serious injury. D’Artagnan was not given a chance to recover between each man’s attack. One man headbutted him leaving a trickle of blood coming from his nose. Another strategically punched him in the hip, causing him to lose his balance for a few seconds. Treville watched the manacles cutting into his wrists as d’Artagnan dangled and struggled to get to his feet. The last man kicked him in the knee causing his leg to buckle under him. 

Lando stepped forward and examined the panting man. The thug looked towards the corner behind d’Artagnan, where Jurieu was watching from the darkness. After a moment’s pause, Lando nodded towards Basso and the last man that had attacked d’Artagnan. 

‘Take him back. You two,’ he pointed at two of the men behind d’Artagnan, ‘back them up. The other one shouldn’t cause you any problems, but they are Musketeers so we cannot take chances.’

D’Artagnan made a weak attempt to fight the men that grabbed him and pulled him from the manacles. But at that moment d’Artagnan needed time to recover from the assault. He could not bear weight on his right leg where he had been kicked. The two men dragged him from the room. Jurieu walked forward as they went; he made a gesture of dismissal to the other men in the room who filed out silently. The man that had been standing with Treville handed something to Jurieu as he walked to the door. The last man remained by the door, gun in hand watching as Jurieu approached Treville. 

‘Did you find that difficult to watch?’ asked the pale man. ‘Did it cause you to suffer?’

‘You know it did,’ said Treville. ‘You’ve had your revenge. Let them go.’

Jurieu shook his head, ‘I am only just starting.’

‘Just starting,’ said Treville. ‘You’ve left two of my men vulnerable with the potential to be attacked by wolves or at the very least to die of exposure. And you’ve just made me watch as d’Artagnan was attacked with no chance to defend himself.’

Jurieu shrugged, ‘you’re right I have achieved a lot in a short space of time. There is still the other man. What can I do to him?’

‘You can let him go,’ suggested Treville. ‘You can let them both go. Give them the chance to find Aramis and Porthos…’

‘No,’ said Jurieu as he reached up to the manacle around Treville’s left hand.

He undid the lock and handed the key to Treville who used it to release himself from the other locks. He was aware of the gunman at the door stepping a little closer to keep him in his sights. Treville knew better than to try anything. Not when his men’s lives were at stake.

‘Lando,’ called Jurieu over his shoulder as Treville stepped away from the wall and stretched out his arms to ease away the stiffness that had crept in.

Lando appeared in the doorway, ‘yes, monsieur?’

‘Our guest,’ Jurieu said, indicating Treville, ‘is keen for the last part of his entertainment to begin. I take it all is ready?’

Lando stepped back into the corridor and said something to one of the other men. The thug nodded and slapped the man on the arm before giving him a playful shove further along the corridor. Treville disliked how at ease the men were with what they were doing. The money took away any doubts they might have had.

‘Simon is going to open the gate now, it will take a few minutes, so we have time to relocate the victim.’

Jurieu smiled as he turned back to Treville, ‘my loyal men. Probably like yours all those years ago. I can see how the power must have gone to your head.’

Treville did not respond. He considered another attempt at protesting his innocence but knew it would be futile. 

‘Bring him, bind his arms and gag him. We do not need him to encourage his man to try to fight us.’

Lando and the gunman stepped forward as Jurieu left the room. Lando grabbed and spun Treville around before pushing him against the nearest wall. Despite tensing up and not willingly letting his wrists be tied Treville could not prevent the rope from being pulled tight. The men had to be a little more forceful to gag him, but he was soon left in the state that Jurieu wanted him. They forced him from the room and back into the wide corridor. 

Jurieu was standing a few yards along the corridor watching the door of the cell where Athos and d’Artagnan were being imprisoned. Basso, who held the rank of Lando’s right-hand man, was pushing the bolts to the door open. He pulled the door open and stepped out of sight. Treville could not hear or see what was happening in the room, but he was heartened to know Athos was not going without a fight. Three more of the hired men entered the cell. Treville heard d’Artagnan shout a couple of times before going silent and Athos cursing. His Musketeer was bundled from the room. Athos was looking back into the room. Treville was a little concerned when the other men did not back out of the room keeping their guns on d’Artagnan. He wondered if something had happened to the younger man to ensure he would stop interfering. 

Athos was pushed along the corridor by the men. He was making it difficult for them, digging his heels in and trying to pull away from them. Basso smacked him in the side of the head leaving him limp for a few seconds. Treville did not think Athos had been knocked out but had been left stunned by the assault. 

The wide corridor ended with a bare wall. The floor at the end of the corridor gave way to a double trap door. As they reached the trap door a couple of the thugs moved ahead and pulled the doors open. Treville could tell the doors were heavy. Athos continued to fight the men as they forced him along the corridor. His struggles intensified as they reached the gaping hole at the end of the corridor. Treville could not see into the hole, there were too many men milling around for him to get a clear view. But it was obvious that Athos was not keen to continue towards it. The struggling man was not given a choice, he was pushed towards the hole and tipped over the edge. 

Treville did not hear a scream of pain from Athos or the sound of him hitting the ground. He had no idea how deep the room was that Basso had pushed Athos into. He hid a smile when he heard Athos swearing at the men who were standing around the hole. Basso spat into the hole, no doubt aiming at the trapped man before pushing one of the doors shut. The other door was closed, muffling Athos’ continued shouts and curses. 

Jurieu turned to look at Treville, he was grinning.

‘This is clever,’ he said. ‘This house used to belong to a sadistic Count. He had that room designed so that he could kill the people that displeased him. The well runs across the back of the room and by opening a metal doorway in the wall of the well the room will flood. It takes about an hour. The poor unfortunate condemned man has time to contemplate his fate as the water rises around him.’

Treville pulled at the men holding him, ‘you said you weren’t going to kill my men,’ said Treville. ‘You were just going to make them suffer so that I would suffer.’

Jurieu slapped his hand against his chest in a mocking gesture to show how shocked he was.

‘When you apologise and accept that you are a murderer, I will let him out.’

Treville shook his head, ‘I’ve already apologised.’

‘No, you haven't, you have said what you think I want to hear. There is no sincerity in your words.’

Treville stared at the man, who he was now convinced was mad. He knew there was nothing he could say to make the man believe him. Jurieu had intended to kill his men all along. Perhaps Aramis and Porthos were dead. Had d’Artagnan been killed in his cell when he tried to help Athos. Was Athos now watching the water rise around him, a drawn-out terrifying death awaiting him.

Treville was at a loss for what to do.

MMMM

_Meanwhile… ___

__They paused at the tree line and looked at the large house. Aramis shifted his grip on Porthos’ waist a little. His friend had not complained about his headache, but Aramis knew he was suffering._ _

__It had not taken long for Aramis to be able to move normally and not need Porthos’ help. He still felt cold and he knew Porthos was suffering as well. But what Porthos was suffering from more was his head injury. Aramis had noticed his friend slowing down and eventually stopping to lean against a tree. With a little cajoling, Aramis had got Porthos walking again, but his friend was in discomfort._ _

__‘Do you think that’s the Baron’s place?’ asked Porthos who was shading his eyes from what little sun there was._ _

__Aramis shook his head, ‘no, that’s not what he described to us. That’s much plainer. He said something about a previous landowner who was stripped of his title. His house was described as haunted or cursed so Granger had a chateau built about a mile away. He didn’t want his tenants to think he was following in the previous owner's footsteps.’_ _

__‘Granger must be very rich,’ muttered Porthos before screwing his eyes shut for a few seconds._ _

__‘I think he is,’ replied Aramis, trying to hide the worry from his voice. ‘The place is abandoned but we might find something of use.’_ _

__‘A painkiller?’_ _

__‘You never know,’ replied Aramis as he urged his ailing friend towards the house._ _

__As they neared the building Aramis wondered if they could gain entry. Aramis could leave Porthos and get help from the chateau. The thought of guiding his injured friend another mile did not appeal to Aramis. He looked at the imposing building. There were no frills of frippery to the design. The architecture showed that money had been spent, but there was nothing ostentatious about the building._ _

__‘Someone’s living here,’ said Porthos who was enjoying a brief spell of alertness._ _

__He pointed towards the side of the building. A carriage with horses was waiting. The carriage was not new, but it was well made. A door opened onto the gravel pathway allowing several men to step out._ _

__Both Musketeers moved to conceal themselves behind the end of a thick hedge made of intertwined fir trees._ _

__The men that were spilling out of the house were talking to one another. They seemed at ease with each other's company. All of them were armed. Aramis counted ten men milling about on the pathway. After a few seconds, another man stepped out of the house. He was holding a small box. The other men formed a queue and went up to the man with the box one at a time. They each received something from the man before moving off away from the house._ _

__‘Getting paid for something,’ guessed Porthos._ _

__‘Looks like it,’ agreed Aramis. ‘What’s the betting they have something to do with our misadventure in the woods?’_ _

__Aramis had no time to contemplate what the men were doing. He was grabbed from behind, pulled back a few paces, and tripped to the ground. He landed hard on his front. He found himself struggling to take a breath for the second time in a matter of hours as he felt the weight of someone leaning over him._ _

__The grass had grown several inches long where he was lying. He could not see what was going on around him. He tried to twist over but could not move. Whoever was sitting across his back was heavy. The feeling of helplessness was only compounded when he felt hands around his neck that began to squeeze. He had been struggling to breathe already, the further assault made the action impossible._ _

__As his vision greyed, he wondered where Porthos was._ _

__He got his answer when the man attacking him collapsed across him. Aramis did not have the strength to get the dead weight off his back._ _

__‘Seems I’m destined to keep rescuing you,’ said Porthos._ _

__The weight of the man was pushed off him. Weakly, Aramis managed to push himself onto his side. Porthos steadied him._ _

__‘Let’s not tell anyone we got taken by surprise,’ suggested Porthos with a grin._ _

__Aramis managed a smile before coughing a few times._ _

__‘Steady breaths,’ urged Porthos._ _

__Aramis did as he was told. It took him a few minutes to get his bearings and be able to sit up. Porthos was not idle in the time it took Aramis to recover from the brief attack. He was busy stripping the man of his jerkin and doublet. Porthos handed the doublet to him. Aramis was grateful for the warmth the leather jacket gave him. He watched Porthos, who was still knelt on the ground, pull the jerkin on and attempt to button it up. Aramis noticed the cuts to his hands for the first time._ _

__‘What happened to your hands?’_ _

__Porthos looked at his palms for a few seconds before responding._ _

__‘When I was alone,’ he said. ‘My head was bad. I fell over a couple of times…’_ _

__Porthos had taken on an unusually melancholy expression._ _

__‘I started thinking about my mother,’ he said. ‘I remembered her cleaning my hands when I fell over as a child.’_ _

__Aramis shuffled a little closer to his friend and started to do the buttons on the jerkin up for him._ _

__‘When I was lying there, unable to do anything,’ said Aramis. ‘I was thinking about Savoy. I felt helpless. Useless. Not able to save anyone. And cold.’_ _

__The two Musketeers looked at each other for a few seconds._ _

__‘When we’ve sorted this out,’ said Porthos. ‘When we’ve found Athos, d’Artagnan and the Captain… We’ll find the biggest fire and just sit next to it.’_ _

__Aramis smiled, ‘that’s what we’ll do.’_ _

__He looked at the man that lay sprawled on the ground next to them. The rock Porthos had used to knock him out was lying by his head. Aramis chuckled as he looked up at Porthos._ _

__‘This is the man that knocked you out,’ he said, remembering the horrible moment he had watched his friend drop to the ground unconscious._ _

__‘Guess they’re hiding out in that house then,’ said Porthos, his tone back to normal. ‘Guess we’d better go and have a look.’_ _

__Aramis looked at Porthos sceptically for a few moments. Porthos tilted his head and rolled his eyes._ _

__‘It comes and goes,’ he said, indicating the headache he was suffering, by pointing at his temple. ‘And it’s gone at the moment.’_ _

__‘Good enough for me,’ said Aramis._ _

__MMMM_ _

__Porthos had not been lying when he told his friend his headache had eased off again. He guessed the attack on Aramis and his need to deal with it had left him angry enough to push the pain away. When Aramis had pointed out the man that had attacked them was the same one that had knocked him out at the start of the whole sordid affair, Porthos felt an odd satisfaction._ _

__He helped Aramis to his feet and looked him over with a critical eye. Aramis laughed._ _

__‘Let’s just accept that we’re both unfit for what we’re about to do and get on with it?’ suggested his friend._ _

__Porthos smiled and nodded before turning back to the house. The men that had been on the pathway were gone. The carriage and horses were still there._ _

__‘They were getting paid off,’ said Porthos as he pulled the weapons off the unconscious man. ‘Hopefully, that was the majority of the men that were responsible for the attack on us.’_ _

__‘Although,’ said Aramis as he accepted the offered gun, whilst Porthos slipped the guards sword into his belt, ‘that also leaves us with the possibility that whoever arranged all this is finished'._ _

__The grim thought had not been far from Porthos’ mind. The men might not have been needed any longer because their work was done. Perhaps the others had been killed. Porthos pushed the thought away._ _

__They moved closer to the house using the trees dotted about as cover. They did not see anyone else. The door the men had emerged from had been left open._ _

__Porthos eased the door open and peered inside. The door opened onto a plain corridor. He guessed it was the staff entrance. The rooms on either side of the corridor were all empty. The house had not been occupied for some years. A couple of rooms had broken windows allowing leaf litter, and other detritus to leave a damp, mouldy atmosphere._ _

__A set of spiral stairs at the end of the corridor gave them the choice of ascending to the upper floors or descending to the cellar. Aramis pointed at the floor; muddy footprints could be seen on the steps leading down. There were no indicators that anyone had been up the stairs. As they were about to take the stairs down to the cellar Porthos heard something in the last room. It was the only room along the corridor that had a closed door. He tapped Aramis on the shoulder and indicated the room. They leaned closer to the door and listened._ _

__‘I only ask you to be sincere, Treville,’ came a voice._ _

__Porthos looked at Aramis who shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, he did not know the man that had spoken. They recognised the Captain replying, although he sounded worked up, something that rarely happened._ _

__‘I am being sincere,’ said the Captain. ‘Perhaps I do not sound sincere to you, Jurieu, because I cannot hide the concern in my voice for Athos. It’s already been half an hour. You said he would only have an hour before he drowned. I am concerned about my man's wellbeing.’_ _

__‘You don’t care that you killed my family.’_ _

__‘I did not kill your family,’ the Captain said his voice filled with emotion._ _

__The other man laughed, ‘so you’ve gone back to denying it. All I want is your sincere confession and apology then I will release your man. You can have the other one back as well. And the two we left in the woods… well, they might still be alive. Most of my men are gone, you won’t get any resistance when you go to retrieve your soaked Musketeer.’_ _

__Porthos felt his arm being tugged, Aramis was indicating that they should go back to the stairs._ _

__‘When we were talking to Granger,’ said Aramis, ‘he mentioned a room that flooded. It has to be low in the house.’_ _

__‘What kind of an evil man is he,’ said Porthos with a nod towards the room where their Captain and the man were talking._ _

__‘As long as he’s distracted by the Captain he’s out of our way,’ said Aramis quietly, as he crept down the stairs._ _

__Porthos disliked leaving the Captain in danger, but Aramis was correct. It sounded as though the conversation the two men were having would continue for a while. And if Athos was in imminent danger, he was their priority._ _

__The spiral of the stairs was both a help and a hindrance. Aramis was pausing every few steps to lean forward as far as he could to check if it was clear. When they reached the bottom of the steps, they were presented with a heavy-looking door. They paused, listening intently for a few seconds. Porthos lifted the latch on the door and eased it open a few inches and peered around the edge._ _

__A wide corridor was revealed, Porthos looked along the length of the corridor, searching for any guards. He pulled the door open wide enough to step through. The end of the corridor in each direction was dark. No one rushed out of the darkness to confront him._ _

__Aramis tapped him on the shoulder and pointed along the corridor to the farthest end._ _

__‘Did you hear that?’_ _

__‘What?’_ _

__‘A tapping or thumping,’ replied Aramis as he cautiously walked along the corridor._ _

__They passed several open doors, the rooms in darkness. Porthos paused at each open door, half expecting someone to rush out and attack them. No attacks came._ _

__As they walked along the cellar corridor Porthos heard what had piqued Aramis’ interest. A dull thud. It was repetitive but with no pattern to the repeats._ _

__Aramis pointed at one of the closed doors indicating the bolts that had been drawn across, he glanced back._ _

__‘Probably where they’re keeping d'Artagnan,’ he said._ _

__Porthos reached up to the top bolt before a loud thud followed by a splash and shout of anger drew his attention._ _

__MMMM_ _


	5. Chapter 5

_Thirty minutes earlier... ___

__The noises in the corridor of the approaching men saw both Athos and d'Artagnan on their feet. Athos had to steady d'Artagnan for a few seconds. His friend was standing on his own by the time the door opened. Basso grinned at them both before stepping into the cell followed by two of the other men._ _

__One of the men shoved d’Artagnan out of the way causing the already beaten man to fall to the floor. Athos took a step towards his friend but found himself being restrained. Basso and one of the other thugs started to pull him towards the door._ _

__'Leave him,' shouted d'Artagnan as he tried to get to his feet._ _

__The man that had pushed d’Artagnan to the floor did not give him the chance to regain his footing. He kicked d'Artagnan, catching him on the knee causing him to crash back down in obvious pain._ _

__Athos swore at the man and made a concerted effort to reach his friend. D'Artagnan was lying on his side with one hand reaching for his knee. The man that had kicked d'Artagnan turned to Athos. Between them, they pushed and pulled him from the room. Athos wanted to check on his friend, but he was not given the chance._ _

__They forced him along the corridor. Athos fought the men every step of the way. As they neared the end of the corridor and he worked out what was going to happen he fought harder still._ _

__He had heard of torturous cells set into the ground that could not be accessed other than from a small hole in the ceiling. He had no wish to become an inmate in such a room. As the heavy trap doors were pulled open, he realised the room was not as deep as he was expecting. Basso pushed him forward until he was on the edge of the hole created by the open trapdoors. He tried to resist but could not stop being pitched forward into the room below._ _

__For a split second, he fell before hitting the hard stone floor. He had managed to reach out as he fell, preventing the landing from being too hard. He twisted onto his back and looked up at the men above him. Basso chuckled before spitting at him._ _

__The heavy doors were dropped back into place. The sound was deafening in the small empty room. Athos flinched away from the slamming doors, disorientated by the reverberating sound._ _

__When he opened his eyes, Athos found himself in darkness. He stared blindly around for a few seconds before the sliver of light between the trapdoors grew more obvious. The thin strip of light from the corridor above him did nothing to light his new prison._ _

__Athos realised he was breathing fast. He took several slow breaths before he began a fingertip search of the room. He had not seen anything in the room before he was pushed in. Only the stone walls. He shivered; all the stones were damp. He could feel the moisture seeping into his breeches. He was glad he was still wearing his doublet._ _

__His fingers brushed along the back wall of the cell. He got to his feet and reached up. He could get his hands almost flat against the ceiling. He looked back at the sliver of light. The doors were heavy but if they were not locked, he had to at least try to open them._ _

__He could not hear anyone in the corridor. He reached up and pushed. The door moved a fraction of an inch. He pushed again. The door thudded back. Athos stared at the doors. The thugs had not bothered to lock them. They were relying on the weight of the heavy wood to keep him imprisoned. Athos wondered if that would be enough._ _

__He undid his doublet and dropped it to the floor. He did not want his movements compromised._ _

__He realised he could reach the doors better at one end of the cell. The floor sloped gently. He kicked his discarded doublet to the lower end of the room and returned his attention to the trapdoors._ _

__Athos tried not to think about his friends as he pushed at the doors. He tried not to worry about d'Artagnan, lying in the cell alone clutching at his leg. He tried not to think about Porthos and Aramis, their bodies being dumped somewhere ready to be burnt. He tried not to wonder what had happened to Treville._ _

__He tried. And failed._ _

__The heavy door thudded back again. He swore at the doors and stepped back._ _

__The splash of water underfoot confused him. He looked down even though he knew he would not see anything. He crouched and reached for his discarded doublet. It was already soaked. The water was several inches deep. The sloping floor meant it was only just reaching the other end of the cell. Athos could not work out where the water was coming from. But he did know it was not draining away._ _

__Athos dropped his jacket hearing it splash back into the encroaching, cold, water. He waited for the ripples of the water to settle and listened intently. He could not hear any tell-tale trickles to indicate where the water was coming from. In the few moments he was listening he felt the unwelcome cold creep into his boots. The leather would keep out a rain shower, but it would not stop the water indefinitely. And standing, ankle-deep, in rising water was not going to be stopped by his boots._ _

__He turned back to the trapdoors. The couple of steps back to stand underneath them caused the water to slosh about, splashing up his legs. He could already feel it dampening his shirt. He had been chilled before but knew it was only going to get worse._ _

__Athos reached up and pushed at the door again, he managed to move it an inch before it thudded back down. He lowered his arms and shook them out, rolling his shoulders a few times and tilting his head from side to side._ _

__The water was up to his knees, he felt his useless doublet knock against his leg. He pushed it away._ _

__Another push of the door saw it open a tiny amount further, but it was not enough for him to get his fingers through. He muttered under his breath for a few seconds before reaching up again._ _

__He stretched up, pulling at the muscles in his arms and straining his calves as he rocked up onto his toes. The door moved enough for him to push his left hand through._ _

__His strength left him for a moment leaving the heavy door’s full weight on his fingers. He yanked his hand back, scraping his fingers on the edges of the two doors. The pain the action caused made him yell a curse on whoever had devised such a simple implement of torture._ _

__Athos lost his balance and splashed back into the water, dunking completely under. He pushed himself to the surface coughing and spluttering. He had to shove his doublet out of the way again. He yelled at the infernal doors as if he could open them by anger alone._ _

__He panted for a few seconds before he realised how much his hand hurt. He clutched his left hand in his right, holding it close to his chest._ _

__Muffled voices above him made him look up. He could not help a moment of confusion. Had some divine intervention come into play. He saw shapes blocking out the sliver of light for a few seconds before the small cell was bathed in the most welcome flicker of torchlight Athos had ever experienced._ _

__‘Thought you might want a hand,’ said Porthos with a grin._ _

__MMMM_ _

__Aramis would not forget the look of shock on his friend’s face for a while. Athos stared at him and Porthos for several seconds before he reacted. He was standing, waist-deep, in water that was splashing back and forth. His hair was plastered to his face and he was clutching his left hand close to his body._ _

__‘You are not dead then?’ Athos finally managed to say._ _

__Aramis glanced at Porthos who shook his head._ _

__‘Not that we’d noticed,’ said Porthos as he pushed the trap door, he was holding fully open to lean back against the wall._ _

__Aramis leaned forward to take Athos’ right hand. Between them, they dragged the soaked Musketeer from what would have been his watery grave. Athos kept his left hand held close to his chest. Aramis eased Athos’ arm away to search for whatever injury his friend was afflicted by._ _

__‘Got my fingers caught in the door when I was trying to push it open,’ said Athos as he eased his fingers straight proving to himself, and Aramis, that they were not broken, only bruised._ _

__‘I’m impressed you managed to get those doors open from underneath,’ remarked Aramis._ _

__‘I think my worry for d’Artagnan and the desire not to drown overruled any sense of reason.’_ _

__Aramis looked back along the corridor towards the bolted door they had passed. Porthos was already half-way towards the door._ _

__‘He was beaten by them,’ said Athos as Aramis helped him to his feet. ‘He was trying to play it down, but I do not think he will be able to walk without help.’_ _

__Porthos pushed the bolts back and pulled the door open. D’Artagnan looked up at them from his place sitting on the floor of the cell, his legs stretched in front of him. He looked dishevelled with bruises and dried blood on his face. D’Artagnan reacted in much the same way that Athos had. He stared at Porthos, then switched his attention to Aramis._ _

__‘You’re not dead?’_ _

__‘Why are you both so sure we’re dead?’ asked Porthos._ _

__‘They told us you were,' said Athos. 'Initially, we thought they were trying to wind us up. They told us you had been tortured and were dead or dying. I think the longer we were shut up in there and after they had hurt d’Artagnan and tried to drown me… It became a reality.’_ _

__Aramis stepped into the cell and crouched by his friend._ _

__‘I’ll live,’ said d’Artagnan. ‘But I won’t be getting anywhere very fast for a bit.’_ _

__‘I had the same issue earlier,’ said Aramis. ‘I think we all have some catching up to do. But first, we need to rescue the Captain.’_ _

__‘We don’t know where they took him,’ said d'Artagnan, his momentary relief at seeing his friends replaced by worry for his commanding officer._ _

__Porthos chuckled, ‘he’s upstairs deep in conversation with someone who is accusing him of murder.’_ _

__‘So that’s what this is about. A vendetta against the Captain,’ said d’Artagnan. ‘Were they using us to get at him?’_ _

__‘It certainly looks that way,’ said Aramis._ _

__Porthos crouched on the other side of d'Artagnan and hooked his arm around his shoulder at the same time as Aramis. They pulled the beaten man to his feet. D’Artagnan did not let his right foot touch the ground. He screwed his eyes shut and struggled to settle his breathing._ _

__‘You’d be better leaving me here for now,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to be any use to you.’_ _

__Aramis nodded, ‘at least let us get you somewhere that isn’t as uncomfortable.’_ _

__D’Artagnan nodded and allowed his friends to help him from the cell. Aramis looked along the corridor at the assorted rooms on either side. Athos guessed what he was thinking and grabbed one of the torches to inspect each of the side rooms. He stepped into one near the end of the corridor. Before calling out to the rest of them._ _

__As they helped d’Artagnan into the room they found Athos pulling off his soaked shirt. He was picking through a tangled pile of doublets. Aramis spotted his and Porthos’ doublets, hats, and weapons._ _

__They lowered d’Artagnan onto a chair. Aramis left Athos and Porthos to pick through their belongings as he looked d’Artagnan over._ _

__‘What did they do to you?’_ _

__‘Chained me up and took turns to punch me,’ replied d’Artagnan as he flinched away from Aramis’ hands. ‘It didn’t make sense at the time. They weren’t questioning me. But if this is all to get at the Captain…’_ _

__Aramis pulled a second chair over and eased d’Artagnan’s injured leg onto it._ _

__‘One of them kicked my knee.’_ _

__Aramis looked up at his friend, ‘not much I can do for you now.’_ _

__‘I’m not stuck in the cell on my own anymore,’ said d’Artagnan. ‘I’m not worried about you all anymore. That’s a start.’_ _

__Aramis realised all four of them had been faced with solitude at one point or other during their ordeal. None of them knew what was happening to the others. A sobering experience that he did not wish to repeat._ _

__Athos appeared beside d’Artagnan draping his doublet over the younger man’s shoulders. Athos had pulled off his soaked shirt and was wearing Aramis' doublet._ _

__‘You don’t mind, do you?’ asked Athos._ _

__‘It doesn’t suit you,’ replied Aramis earning a slap on the arm from his friend._ _

__Porthos handed d’Artagnan a gun, ‘in case someone pays you a visit that ain’t one of us,’ he said._ _

__D’Artagnan nodded, ‘be careful,’ he said._ _

__They all nodded as they checked their weapons and readied themselves for what they hoped would be the final confrontation before the five of them were reunited._ _

__MMMM_ _

__Porthos led the way back up the stairs. Between the three of them, they could take on the man that was with the Captain. He only hoped they did not meet any other resistance. Athos only had the use of one hand, Aramis was covered in bruises after his brief altercation before they got into the house, and he was still suffering from his head injury._ _

__The constant thump had gradually returned in the few minutes since the four of them had found each other. Perhaps it was the relief that they were all alive, but Porthos could not afford to let the ache get the better of him._ _

__They reached the top of the stair and stepped out into the servant’s quarters. Porthos stopped by the door and listened. Aramis stole along the corridor checking each of the rooms again. Athos went a few steps up the spiral staircase to ensure they were not about to be disturbed by anyone who might have been in another part of the house._ _

__The man that was behind the attack on the five of them was still urging Treville to confess to the murder of his family. Treville was alternating between telling the man he was not responsible for the deaths and almost begging him to release Athos. The worry in his voice increased as he spoke._ _

__When Aramis and Athos returned from their brief reconnaissance they paused. None of them knew what to expect on the other side of the door. Each man checked his weapon. Porthos indicated for Athos to hang back a little. Athos nodded, raising his gun ready to shoot at whatever target presented itself. Porthos reached for the handle of the door and turned it slowly._ _

__He pushed the door open a crack and looked inside._ _

__There were three men with their backs to the door. One was aiming a gun roughly in Treville’s direction. One had the poise of a soldier, and the man in the middle looked underfed but was wearing good clothes. Porthos guessed he was the man with the money, the one with the vendetta._ _

__The Captain was standing against the far wall. He looked angry, wound up, and worried._ _

__Porthos allowed the door to swing open. The Captain’s eyes went wide as his men stepped into the room._ _

__The three men who were threatening the Captain whirled around. The man in the middle stumbled back as the other two surged forward. Porthos found himself dodging a gunshot from the man that had been threatening the Captain. The ball embedded itself in the wall behind him harmlessly. He returned fire with more luck, striking the man on the shoulder. It was not enough to stop the man’s advance, but it did throw him off balance. Porthos flipped his weapon and clubbed the advancing man on the shoulder where he had been shot. The man yelled at him and with a final burst of strength grabbed him and pushed him back against the wall. The force of the shove meant Porthos’ head smacked against the wall. He could do nothing further. The explosion of pain left him reeling. He sank to the floor and screwed his eyes shut._ _

__He heard a few yells from Athos and Aramis, followed by another gunshot. When he was able to open his eyes again, he was not surprised to see the three enemy men had been dealt with._ _


	6. Chapter 6

Treville watched as Basso, who had been shot by Porthos, clutched at the wound on his shoulder. A pool of blood was forming underneath him where the ball had gone through his body. He would be dead in minutes. 

Lando was sitting slumped against the opposite wall, a neat hole in his forehead and a vacant expression on his face. 

Jurieu was glaring at Treville as he was forced to his knees by Aramis. 

The Captain tore his gaze away from the pale, angry, man to look at each of the Musketeers in turn with confusion.

‘They are not dead,’ said Athos indicating Aramis and Porthos, ‘and I did not drown. D’Artagnan will be fine as well.’

‘I never doubted the four of you for a second,’ said the Captain who felt unusually overwhelmed by the whole situation. 

Jurieu was scowling at the Captain, he was trying to twist away from Aramis’ grasp.

‘Are you going to finish what you started?’ he said. 'Are you going to murder me, as you did the rest of my family?'

‘Jurieu,’ said Treville, ‘I am sorry your family were killed, but I did not have anything to do with that. I may have been in the same regiment. I may have known the men that were responsible. But it was not me.’

Jurieu looked down for a few seconds before scrambling up and charging at the Captain. Aramis tried to grab the man but was not quick enough. Jurieu flung himself at the Captain, his hands reaching for his target's throat. But the Captain was ready for the attack. He brought his arms up quickly pushing Jurieu’s wrists apart. He twisted his hands and grabbed his attacker’s wrists before spinning him to the side and slamming him into the wall. The stunned man did not have a chance to react before the Musketeer Captain punched him in the face knocking him backwards. Jurieu crashed to the ground unconscious. 

They all looked at each other for a few seconds. Treville took in the state of his Musketeers. 

Athos was still glaring at the man he had shot. Lando was slumped against the wall, his head tilted to the side, his mouth open allowing a trickle of blood to spill out. Athos had his left hand held close to his chest, Treville could not work out what the injury was. He was wearing Aramis’ doublet and his breeches and boots were soaked. 

Aramis was wearing a doublet that Treville thought he recognised as belonging to one of the other thugs. He had grazes on his cheeks and darkening bruises on his neck. As he leaned over Jurieu to check he was still breathing, Treville saw grazes on Aramis’ wrists where he had been restrained with the rough ropes. 

Porthos was leaning against the far wall with an unfocused expression. He had somehow acquired a slightly tatty looking jerkin. 

All three men looked exhausted and cold. 

‘D’Artagnan?’ Treville asked. 

‘Downstairs,’ said Athos as he dropped the spent gun on to a table. ‘He was beaten by them. He can’t walk unaided. But he should be fine given time to rest.’

‘I was there when they beat him,’ said Treville.

Athos looked at him with confusion.

‘Jurieu,’ he said with a nod towards the unconscious man, ‘had me restrained in the corner. D’Artagnan couldn’t see me.’

‘Who is this man?’ asked Aramis.

Treville spent a few minutes explaining the accusation that Jurieu had made and that he had been forced to watch what had been done to d’Artagnan and Athos. 

‘But right now,’ he concluded, ‘I would rather ensure all your injuries are dealt with.’

Aramis, who had been crouched by Porthos, looked up, ‘I’ve not been able to have a proper look at d’Artagnan. Athos has some bad bruising on his hand. And Porthos could probably do with a painkiller for his headache.’

Porthos managed a pained smile and a nod, ‘it’s catching up with me now,’ he said. ‘And Aramis was nearly strangled by one of those thugs earlier and he’s suffering from the hours exposed to the elements last night.’

Treville sighed, ‘I know that none of this is my fault. But I feel responsible.’

Athos turned to him, ‘Captain, you do not have to-’

‘Hello. Messieurs?’

Athos picked up the gun from the table and stepped out into the corridor with Aramis close behind him.

‘It’s Baron Granger and his son,’ said Aramis with a relieved smile.

‘When none of you returned last night, I was worried,’ said Granger as he reached the doorway.

He was armed with a sword and gun. The gun was drawn. Simon was similarly armed, the young man looked shocked at the state of the soldiers. 

‘The stable boy confessed that he’d been paid to tell you that the horses were agitated,’ said the young man. ‘He said that man…’

Simon noticed the unconscious form of Jurieu and pointed towards him. 

‘He said that man had given him some coins to lie to you.’

Granger continued, ‘we guessed that you had been attacked. One of the farmers saw a carriage and a cart being driven away. We decided to look for you. I can only apologies that it took us this long to consider you were being held here. Simon spotted a group of men walking away from here that did not look like they belonged.’

‘It has been an interesting few hours, Baron,’ said Treville.

‘So it seems,’ replied the Baron, ‘and now you will accept my hospitality and allow us to tend to your injuries… Where is… d’Artagnan?’

‘Still in the cellar, Monsieur,’ said Aramis, ‘he can’t bear weight on one of his legs.’

‘We have a cart back at the chateau,’ said Simon. ‘I’ll go and get it.’

Simon disappeared back along the corridor. Baron Granger stepped into the room and looked down at Jurieu.

‘He was in the tavern last night. He’s been here a few times over the last few days. Never spoke to anyone. We all thought he had business in the area. He must have kept the activity here quiet as well… Captain,’ said Granger, turning to Treville, ‘as the landowner here it is my jurisdiction. I need to know what has happened so that I can decide what is to become of this man.’

Treville nodded. He did not envy Granger. He was unsure what punishment Jurieu deserved. He had been imprisoned for nothing more than a difference in his faith and his family had been murdered. The pain those events had caused him had left him unable to think rationally. But he had threatened to kill four men. Treville was still unsure if he would have let them all go. 

‘Let’s get you back to the chateau,’ said Granger. ‘He can be locked in one of the vacant staff bedrooms for now.’

Granger had taken charge of the situation and for once Treville did not mind. All he wanted to do was ensure his men were looked after and take a few minutes to contemplate all that had gone on. 

MMMM

Aramis settled next to Porthos on the oversized couch that was positioned in front of the large fire. He stared at the flames for several seconds, enjoying the warmth they were giving off. He still felt cold despite all the activity of the last couple of hours. 

True to his word Baron Granger had seen them all safely relocated to his Chateau. He had insisted that they allow his staff to take care of them. His head gardener had been a soldier and soon took charge of the Musketeers ordering them into the small, cosy, sitting room and inspected their injuries. Aramis tried to assist the man but had been shooed away by the old soldier. 

All Aramis could do was watch as the gardener applied a balm to Athos’ bruised fingers and his own bruised neck. Clean water and cloths were brought in to allow the Musketeers to clean their assortment of cuts and grazes. And the Baron’s daughter had watched Porthos to ensure he drank every drop of the painkilling draught they had mixed for him.

D’Artagnan was whisked off to one of the bedrooms by a couple of the footmen. The poor Musketeer was struggling to remain conscious as his injuries were jostled. 

Porthos looked across at Aramis, ‘you said we needed to sit in front of a big fire,’ he remarked. 

Aramis nodded, ‘and I doubt this is the biggest fire in the house,’ he mused. 

Athos appeared beside him holding out a crystal glass with an enticing liquid sloshing back and forth. Aramis took the glass and sniffed it with a smile. Porthos gave a satisfied sigh as he took a sip from the glass Athos had handed him. Athos settled in a cushioned chair to the right of the hearth nursing his own drink.

‘We should get rescued by friendly Baron’s more often,’ said Porthos with a grin. 

‘That painkiller’s working,’ said Athos. ‘You were a very unhappy Musketeer a while ago.’

It had taken them a few minutes to coax Porthos off the cart when they had arrived at the chateau. The headache their friend was suffering with had been exacerbated by the uneven roads they had ridden across. 

They looked up as the door was pushed open. The Captain stepped into the room and waved for them all to stay where they were. He wandered to the fire and stood for a few moments gazing at the flames. Athos poured him a drink and passed it to him.

‘The Baron is insisting we stay for a couple of days until d’Artagnan can mount up. Rooms are being prepared for us. I’ve explained everything that’s happened. He’s going to make his decision regarding Jurieu in the morning.’

'Where is Jurieu now?' asked Athos.

'Locked up. He was still unconscious. I don't feel guilty about striking him. His issue was with me. Not with any of you.'

Aramis could tell the Captain had been deeply affected by all that had gone on. He glanced at Athos who appeared to be thinking the same. The Captain spotted their worried looks.

'You cannot expect me not to feel some responsibility. Maybe if I had gone along with his way of thinking from the start. You may all have been spared your injuries.'

Aramis shook his head, 'he'd already attacked Porthos and me.'

Treville paused for a moment before nodding, 'you are right. He had it well planned. He wanted to hurt you all, in his twisted vendetta against me.'

The four of them lapsed into silence. The Captain turned away from them and went back to staring at the fire. 

Aramis eased himself up to stand, his assortment of bruises and strains starting to make themselves known to him.

‘I’m going to check on d’Artagnan. I am guessing Monsieur Lebrun will have returned to his roses and meticulous lawns,’ he said with a grin.

Treville nodded, ‘if he’s awake make sure he knows we have been invited to stay and that he does not need to be up and about before he should be.’

Porthos smirked, ‘Aramis has a way of ensuring we all behave when we’re injured.’

‘And don’t you forget it,’ chuckled Aramis as he opened the door and stepped out of the room. 

He asked one of the footmen where d’Artagnan was. Following the directions, he made his way to the first floor.

The room his friend was resting in was large. A four-poster bed dominated the room with Royal blue drapes tied back at the posts. D’Artagnan looked a bit lost lying in the centre of the bed. He was asleep but looked peaceful. Aramis wandered across the room to the window.

The view from the window was impressive, showing the large lawns in front of the chateau. Aramis could see the gardener discussing something with a couple of other men near an ornate fountain. He wondered if the gardener enjoyed being the master of his kingdom of roses, lavender, and leafy trees. 

‘Is everything alright?’

Aramis turned to find d’Artagnan looking at him with slight confusion.

‘Do you remember what happened and where you are?’ asked Aramis, deciding it was best to establish if his friend had been unduly affected by his beating.

‘At the Baron’s chateau. You were practically pushed out of the way by…' he thought for a moment, 'Monsieur Lebrun?’

Aramis smiled, ‘yes. But he is back out in his gardens now. I only came up to see if you wanted anything and to tell you we have been invited to stay a couple of days.’

D’Artagnan looked around the room. Aramis wondered if he had not had a chance to properly take in his surroundings when he had first been brought in.

‘I don’t think I will complain,’ remarked the younger man. ‘Is everyone else alright?’

‘Porthos is more alert than he was. I think, rather like you, he was holding on by his fingernails towards the end. Athos has lost the use of his left hand for now. The bruises are already impressive. And I will admit to finding more and more bruises of my own that I had not been aware of.’

‘What about the Captain?’

Aramis sighed, ‘he says he knows he is not to blame. But he is blaming himself. I don’t think he will make peace with what has gone on until Granger decides what to do with Jurieu in the morning.’

A creak outside the door, followed by a gentle knock, made them both look across. D’Artagnan smiled.

‘Monsieur Lebrun said he would have some food sent up to me in a couple of hours. He must hold a position of respect amongst the staff to be able to dish out orders like that.’

‘I think it’s Granger who respects him,’ remarked Aramis as he walked to the carved door to let the servant with the food in.

He turned the handle but was forced back by whoever was on the other side shoving the door open wide. Aramis stumbled back, caught his heel on a rug and tumbled to the floor. He looked up in time to see Jurieu looming over him with a candlestick.

MMMM

D’Artagnan tried to push the expensive blankets off him as Jurieu pushed his way into the room. Aramis stumbled to the floor and took too long to orientate himself. Jurieu was standing over Aramis with a heavy-looking candlestick raised above his head. Jurieu intended to strike Aramis with the candlestick. If he was hit on the head the blow would likely kill the prone Musketeer.

D’Artagnan managed to swing his legs off the bed and was about to stand when the heavy steps of several people running stopped him. Jurieu hesitated mid-swing and looked towards the door. Aramis took the opportunity to push himself out of reach of the man if he decided to have another attempt at hitting him. 

Treville burst into the room, his gun was already drawn. Jurieu saw him. D’Artagnan could tell what the scheming man was going to do. He turned on the spot and charged towards the Captain, his improvised weapon swung back ready to deploy. D’Artagnan knew the Captain had no choice, even if he had time to think about what he was about to do. 

The gun was raised and fired in one swift movement. Jurieu was hit in the chest, his momentum carried him forwards several paces. The Captain took a couple of steps back to avoid being caught by the man as he collapsed. The candlestick thumped into the floor leaving scratches and small indentations in the polished wood. 

Jurieu made a few gasps and reached out towards the Captain, his fingers forming a fist, grabbing nothing but air before he slumped to the ground. A couple of stuttered breaths were Jurieu’s last movements before he became still.

Baron Granger appeared in the doorway. D’Artagnan could see Athos and Porthos behind him. A footman was waiting a few yards away, the young man had a red mark on his forehead and a trickle of blood on his cheek.

‘Marc was taken by surprise,’ said the Baron with a nod to the shocked looking footman. ‘This man managed to open the locked door. He knocked Marc down,’ Granger said as he stepped around the body of Jurieu and crouched by Aramis who still looked a bit stunned. 

Treville was staring at the body, his gun held loosely in his hand, ‘we guessed he would try to attack us again.’

The Captain holstered his weapon and crossed to d’Artagnan.

‘I’m fine,’ he said. 

D’Artagnan allowed the Captain to help him back into the bed, trying to hide the winces of pain as his injured knee was agitated. Granger helped Aramis to his feet and looked the Musketeer over critically. 

‘He took me by surprise,’ admitted Aramis, causing Porthos to stifle a relieved laugh.

‘I do not think any of us is in a fit state to judge at the moment,’ admonished Athos who also looked relieved.

Treville shook his head, ‘I should have watched him or had him restrained.’

‘This was not your fault, Captain,’ said the Baron. ‘There is no blame here. From what you have told me this man was manipulative and determined… Captain, I was of the opinion he should have hanged for the attempts to kill your men. It was not a decision I made lightly. Like you, I do not agree with the persecution of a person simply because of their belief. We cannot condone what he did to you all, but what happened to him and his family is horrific. I think we can all understand his grief.’

The Captain nodded sadly, ‘I would have helped him to find the man that did order the murder of his family. I would have willingly helped him.’

The Baron squeezed Treville’s shoulder, ‘I will see to it that he is buried in accordance with his faith.’

‘Thank you,’ said the Captain.

MMMM

Treville stood in the doorway of the servant's entrance to the chateau and watched as Jurieu’s body was reverently loaded onto the cart. He was not sure how he felt about the man’s death. 

Jurieu was responsible for nasty assaults and attempted murders of each of his men. None of the four had come out unscathed. Athos would not be able to wield a weapon with his left hand for some time. Porthos and Aramis were both playing down how much they were affected by the hours of solitude in the woods. And d’Artagnan would be unable to walk without assistance for several days.

Treville understood why Jurieu had wanted revenge but could not condone his methods. He could only conclude the man had been driven insane by his years of incarceration. Witnessing the murder of his young family would have been enough on its own to drive a man mad. 

Treville had meant it when he had said he would have helped Jurieu to hunt down the man who was responsible for the original miscarriage of justice. But Jurieu had not given him a chance. Jurieu was a man who had been determined. Nothing was going to stop him. 

As the cart moved off Treville crossed himself and sent up a silent prayer for the souls of Jurieu and his family.

He could do nothing further for the dead man. But he could accept that he was not to blame. He could turn his attention to his men who would probably need to be ordered to rest. The last thing the Captain wanted was for his Musketeers to make their assorted injuries worse. 

He would order Athos to take the time to allow his hand to heal. He would insist that d’Artagnan take as much bed rest as was necessary. And he would sit with Porthos and Aramis and make them talk. He would not allow them to dwell on whatever memories had been dredged up by their hours of solitude. 

The Captain knew the incident could not simply be forgotten but he could deal with it and accept that he was not at fault. 

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it.   
> Thanks for the comments and kudos. :-)


End file.
